Artwork by Lincoln Hughes

August 13, 2019

Although we reside in the new refined cities of village rock, the rules we follow are of the past. No one cares to change them — they are managed by those who were born into them. They soon will pass, but only time will tell if their stories make it to Saint Laurenco Circle and back.

We found home where we’d rest.

Rest being the area we could feed our chest.

Beating it like drums; wrong because survival was the test.

The sun lingers on all but following believers.

They forget to look up; in the way a preacher’s finger.

Home was where the gut settles,

Where the heart beats mellow.

It is not the street or next door to your fellows.

Nor the brownstone you rent from uptown’s dwellers.

Make it in the mind – be happy, be kind.

Home is the space we can be us.

Money may hinder. Too confusing?

Watch who you trust.

I was born out a small village they called Dronya – miles outside the borders of Trenchport near West Africa. Between a rock and hard place, it’s hard to describe my home with a setting of space. They never told us who sprayed the lands, but Dronya was sprayed so we walked to Bhuri. I recall 13 moons until the village lost its access to fresh water. The women were coming up missing. We were often thirsty. When the barriers were forcefully ambled by animals, we walked again. Sister villages Pranantika and Nibiru was home prior to our one-way flight to the bank. Before settling closer to the Paniya, we went from Puro Village, Sambahula, Anatirikta, Vizala, Jala, Tola, Jalohondorhona, which is where we almost lost my sister. Nibiru’s land was protected because of the missionaries.

The Paniya was safe, but not every bend had clean water. At least the people who lie at the bed weren’t sprayed there. It was my playground for 11 years. Through political warfare and corrupt leadership my dad along with Chala got us out. They were social justice warriors, which made me question my purpose. Today, only the wealthy and fortunate indigenous people get near the river. We refuse to be labeled a tourist in our homeland.

-Budd

Please donate to help bring this book home to readers like yourself! I’m running my first crowdfunding campaign to support my full-time writing, book two and book three of the Divine IX Trilogy. Thank you! – TK

GoFundBudd’s Writings On The Run

I'm passionate about my story, so I challenge my readers to be as well if they aren't already. I once thought long & hard about the challenges we give ourselves daily, of finding an eternal feeling of joy and abundance. Through inspirational explorations of my past, I attempt to influence others to find theirs. Here on @vehicledigest.net you'll see what allows me to display my enthusiastic lifestyle; whether it be through creativity, elegance, or wit.

7 Comment on “BOURGEOISIE I (CHAPTER II.2 PREVIEW)

  1. Pingback: How Dare I Run Portland Different | @VehicleDigest.net

  2. Pingback: One Who Doesn’t Skip Breaths | @VehicleDigest.net

  3. Pingback: It’s Her & I | @VehicleDigest.net

  4. Pingback: A Childish Type Writer | @VehicleDigest.net

  5. Pingback: Bearing Tears Before Flight | @VehicleDigest.net

  6. Pingback: Faith Beneath The Brightest of Midnight | @VehicleDigest.net

  7. Pingback: Who’s My Audience? | @VehicleDigest.net

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: